


Nightmares and Hot Chocolate

by josephina_x



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Gen, Post-Series, Post-Weirdmageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephina_x/pseuds/josephina_x
Summary: Nightmares and hot chocolate, post-Weirdmageddon.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Mabel Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Nightmares and Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sci-fi-hero (NotVriska)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotVriska/gifts).



> Fic: Nightmares and Hot Chocolate  
> Fandom: Gravity Falls  
> Pairing: n/a  
> Rating: G  
> Spoilers: through the end of the series, and some of the books (Journal #3)  
> Characters: The Author | Original Stanford Pines, Mabel Pines, Other Gravity Falls Characters  
> Summary: Nightmares and hot chocolate, post-Weirdmageddon.  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit.  
> AN: A Secret Santa gift to [sci-fi-hero](https://sci-fi-hero.tumblr.com) from the WWTD Discord!
> 
> The prompts I went with were: “Anything related to ford, angst is good but non-angst is fine too, ford hanging out with any other gravity falls character”

\---

“Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked, craning her head down to look at her other favorite grunkle. He was crouched on the floor in front of her, and with the way his shoulders and his whole back were hunched up like that… “What’s wrong, silly?” she asked him. But he didn’t seem to hear her.

She stifled a sigh with her usual bright smile instead, and reached out to tug at his arm… and her hand went straight through it.

Mabel blinked.

“...Oh,” she said quietly, as she looked down at her own hands. They looked a little blue-ish, and… kind of see-through?

And the floor below her looked familiar, but not super-familiar. Where was she--

\--nope, no, that could come later. _Right now_ , her grunkle needed some serious cheering up! ...So how did she talk to him?

She bit her lip slightly as she tried to remember everything Dipper had told her before, about the ghosts in the broken-down Dusk 2 Dawn, and also that whole Bill-deal getting him stuck in the mindscape-place? She couldn’t be a ghost, because Grunkle Ford would be able to hear her just fine if she was, right? Which meant--

She heard someone laughing, and looked up.

Bill was huge, and floating right above them. In the Fearamid. They were in the Fearamid.

“You!” Mabel stood her ground for a moment, then bolted forward and got in front of her grunkle as the demon in the top hat drifted down lower. “You crazy triangle! You leave my grunkle alone! And--” _put down my brother right now, or else!!_ she was about to demand, except she couldn’t see Dipper and--

“Wait, where’s--” Mabel glanced around quickly, confused, because Bill wasn’t holding onto Dipper in his fist anymore, where was he? “Dipper?” --Wait, there he was, over with Grunkle Stan, and they both were… on the floor? Why? What was--

“Mabel.”

Mabel gasped after hearing Grunkle Ford say her name, and turned towards him, brightening immediately. --Because he _could_ hear her! Which meant--

“Grunkle Ford, _run!_ ” she told him quickly. “Don’t just sit there! You need to--”

But then Mabel startled again as she realized what her Grunkle Ford was crouched over. Or, well, _who_.

It was her. Well, sort of. Her body. He was holding her--

“ _TICK TOCK_ , Sixer,” she heard Bill say. “Time’s a wasting. And Shooting Star, well, she doesn’t have much of it. So do we have a _DEAL?_ Or--”

Oh. Oh, that dumb triangle jerk! She wasn’t going to let her grunkle fall for this!

And she knew how to handle this from what Dipper had told her. Mystery Twins for the win!

Mabel dove straight down into her body in a flash, just like Dipper had told her he’d done with his body, once Bill had gotten smacked right out of it, falling down onto the floor of the stage.

There was a flash of disorientation, and then--

\--Mabel gasped as she _kept going_ , tumbling, and barely stopped a few feet away after she realized that she’d just gone through her own body -- _and Grunkle Ford_ \-- and come out the other side and--

Oh, no. No. That... that should have worked. Dipper had said-- _that was supposed to have worked_ \--

_(--but that doesn’t really make sense. I can feel Grunkle Ford holding onto me, almost. That should’ve worked. I’m not a ghost, I should be alive, I should be okay. Why didn’t that work? Dipper said that when he did it--! It doesn’t make sense--)_

This was a nightmare. She had to _do_ something, _right now_.

_(--Okay, Mabel. You got this. The stupid triangle just did something to your body, that’s all. You just need a sock puppet to be able talk to people. No sweat! If you get a sock puppet like Dipper did, then maybe--)_

She needed a sock puppet _stat_ \--

\--There _were_ no sock puppets, she and Dipper hadn’t thought to bring any with them on their rescue mission to get their science-grunkle back, and...

“ _You monster_ ,” she heard her Grunkle Ford choke out, as he looked up at Bill. She floated around to the front of him quickly. He was, he was _crying_ and… he looked... “You…”

“Grunkle Ford, it’s fine!” she told him quickly, starting to feel really afraid of what was going to happen. Because right now, her grunkle didn’t look anything like brave at all, or anything like defiant. He didn’t look like he was about to tell Bill off for the bajillionth time, all over again. He looked angry -- and Mabel knew _that_ kind of angry really well from what it felt like every single time anybody ever picked on her brother -- but he _also_ looked…

“I’m fine! Don’t listen to him! He’s just trying to _trick_ you!” Mabel told him desperately, trying to shove his shoulder to get his attention, floating in front of him, trying _anything_ to get him to listen. “Don’t--!”

“ _WELL?_ ” Mabel heard, and Bill was way, way too close to her grunkle, his eye wide and grinning, and she had to _do something_ now!!!

So Mabel pushed herself up into the air and dove straight at Bill. Straight at his outstretched hand. Because maybe she couldn’t do anything to tell Grunkle Ford anything directly, but maybe if she shoved Bill or something, it’d get his attention and her grunkle would see--

She rammed her see-through self into Bill’s hand at the wrist, planning on trying to body-check him, to bodily smack his hand _away_ from her grunkle, just as hard as she could, and--

\--it felt like accidentally sticking her fingers against the wrong two pieces of sweater-lights wiring while it was plugged into the wall **and** getting socked in the gut, _all at the same time_.

...She wasn’t sure which direction she was floating once the pain cleared up a bit, only that she was looking back at her grunkle as he stretched out his hand upwards, to meet Bill’s own, everything off-kilter in her field of view, and--

\---

“NO!!!” Mabel yelled, punching out, panicked, and Ford startled in place, nearly dropping his book.

“Mabel, what--?” Ford began in concern, twisting his head down to look at her, as his favorite niece in this dimension, or any other, kicked out in her sleep -- rather, flailed out as hard as she could with every single limb -- within the blanket he’d accepted from Stan to carefully and quietly wrap around her, to add to her own rather too-large sweater for warmth and insulation--

Ford let go of the book -- he could certainly retrieve it later, his grandniece’s safety and comfort came first in his mind -- and opted to wrap his arms around her and pull her upright into a soft hug instead, pulling the now likely too-constricting blanket off of her a bit with one hand as he did so. (Perhaps that was part of the problem?) “Mabel, shhh. It’s all right,” he told her, as she seemed to wake up more fully, and…

\--in an instant Mabel was clinging onto him after an almost in-place tackle, once that had him not quite covering a gasp for breath, because at the force with which she launched her small body at his own chest, he’d rather lost his.

“No, no, no, _Grunkle Ford_...” he hard her muttering quietly, in an almost desperate plea, and he felt his turtleneck beginning to grow damp at, one would assume, precisely the area where her eyes were pressed up against his shirt.

He let out a soft but tired sigh, as he shifted her a bit in his lap in such a way as to pull her a bit closer in, while feeling just a little bit relieved. --It was just a normal bad dream from the looks of it, easily remedied by a hug and his own immediate and continued presence it seemed, as luck would have it.

(...Though he did worry a bit as to what was the cause of sad bad dream -- the nightmare itself was simply a fact, there was no question as to the cause of her current behavior. He didn’t think it was related to any digestive issues; he didn’t believe that she’d eaten anything much different at the latest mealtime than other prior meals they’d taken together at the Shack. The blanket itself was also not much different from her bed; being wrapped up in one should not have caused such an issue. And she wasn’t normally known for such nightmares, Ford was rather certain.)

(The only thing he could think of as being largely different this time was the location in which she’d fallen asleep. The fact of the matter was that Mabel did not normally climb up into his lap and fall asleep on him while he was sitting in a chair rather late at night reading. ...Had her partially-upright posture been a contributing factor to the nightmare? Or was it his own presence? She’d said his name, and sounded rather scared in saying it-- was it his own fault for not taking better care of her? Perhaps he should have taken her upstairs to bed instead of simply…)

Ford raised a hand up and ran it over her hair, gently trying to soothe her worries away. (He still rather marvelled at the fact that this behavior on his part was permitted. Unless his own memories were somehow at fault, there had been very few people in this dimension who had been willing to be touched by him for any reason before, let alone in a _comforting_ way. And yet he’d found his hugs and shoulder touches and soft hair ruffles well-received by both Mabel and Dipper in each and every instance that he did it; his brother, as well.)

He felt Mabel shivering a bit as he held her -- clearly more from tension rather than cold, as she felt quite warm in his arms. And Ford felt a bit out of his depth, as he let out a soft sigh and tried to think of how his mother had comforted him sometimes, when he’d been feeling down. He was already curled up in the same chair and hugging Mabel; as for comforting words, his mother hadn’t ever said much that he’d found helpful to him, though -- just tried to distract him away from the bad with a dizzying mix of made-up stories and lies. That wasn’t something that Ford was wont to do; that said, it did remind him of how he’d always wished that she’d simply been more direct about everything, and...

“You are safe here,” Ford told his grandniece simply but firmly, as he cuddled her just a bit closer, and she cuddled him right back in return. “I won’t let anything hurt you.” But he paused and frowned slightly, as apparently his words only seemed to give cause to Mabel squeezing him a bit more tightly than before and tensing in place, rather than exhibiting the relaxation that he’d hoped his reassurances would provide. “...May I ask what you were dreaming about?”

“...Bill,” Mabel said quietly into his shirt, and Ford closed his eyes a moment and silently cursed himself yet again for being such a fool. To have brought that demon down on himself had been one thing, the height of hubris and his own fault entirely; to shoulder such a burden himself was expected and necessary. But to have brought the demon down on his own family, beyond just and only himself… Ford had to cover his own wince as he remembered the terrible mistake he’d made during Weirdmageddon, in letting Bill realize how much he cared for them. How it had led to Bill planning on using them against him… and his arms unconsciously tightened a bit further around his grandniece.

(And what could he say to that? --I’m sorry? That wouldn’t soothe her fears that he might come back. And Ford couldn’t promise that that was the case. --I’ll do anything to protect you? Stan had already done that for all of them; Ford simply hadn’t and wouldn’t be capable of the same sort of sacrifice himself, what with the metal plate wrapped about his head preventing any memory gun from working on him. And even if it could and did, would Mabel truly find the thought _comforting_ that he would be willing to sacrifice his very self, his mind, for her safety, after what had happened with Stan? How she’d cried when she’d first thought that maybe Stanley wasn’t ever going to remember any of them, ever again? And how could Ford possibly convince her of any of that, when he couldn’t even convince _himself_ that--)

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford,” he heard Mabel say next, patting him on the chest in a soothing manner herself, and it almost pulled a huff of a laugh out of him, even as it left him blinking and startled out of his own restless down-spiraling thoughts. Because...

“My dear, shouldn’t I be the one who is supposed to be comforting _you?_ ” Ford asked of her, hearing his own confused incredulity seeping into his tone, and that was apparently enough to get a giggle out of her next. (It also got him a slight head-butting up against his chest, as she settled in a bit more, relaxing further. ...Ah. Good.)

“Nope!” he heard her say next, shaking her head against him before she poked her head up out of his shirt to look up at him straight in the eyes. “If you make me feel better, then I get to comfort you, too!”

“Ah, well then.” Ford couldn’t argue with that. Certainly not now that the cumulative effect of such seemed to be that she was doing a good deal better now -- at least, if her tired but genuine smile was anything to go by, she was.

After awhile, Ford slowly let go of her, though only after another firm squeeze of a hug from his grandniece prior to her letting go of _him_ to begin to sit up more fully. And he almost asked her what her rather disturbing dream was about, beyond _‘Bill’_ , next, but… something about the way she was still holding onto his shirt just made him a bit hesitant to ask for the details so soon from her fully.

So he asked her instead, “Would you like a cup of hot chocolate?” And as he lined up a set of arguments to help to convince her to try it, planning on starting it off by noting that a warm drink at night after a not particularly pleasant bad dream tended to make _him_ feel better, to make the case for her perhaps trying to do so as well to a possible similar effect, then ending with the rejoinder that he really wouldn’t mind doing so for her -- no, truly, he would rather enjoy making a pair of mugs of the drink for both her and himself, since he’d been thinking about getting up to make something to drink for himself at some point soon, anyway...

“-- _Would_ I!?” Mabel grinned up at him enthusiastically. And as he raised his eyebrows at her response (he couldn’t help it, really; was it really that easy?), she giggled at him again and told him, “Yes, Grunkle Ford. That’s a yes.”

Ford gave her the beginnings of a (rather relieved) smile as she slid out of his lap, and watched as she retrieved both book and blanket, looking a bit sheepish. He smiled as he took the book back from her, and used one panel of the dust cover to bookmark his last place before setting it down on the arm of the chair. He only had to wait briefly as she finished wrapping the earlier-discarded blanket around her head and her shoulders more comfortably, almost a bit like a shawl.

“Well, then,” Ford said. “Shall we?” And he held out his hand to her for the short walk to the kitchen from the living room.

He couldn’t help but feel as though he wasn’t alone in feeling better in the here and now, as Mabel happily reached up and back towards him and put her hand in his.

\---


End file.
